


give it a shake

by torigates



Category: Bones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-05
Updated: 2010-07-05
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When all that was said and done, Cam squared her shoulders and prepared herself to face the year she was left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give it a shake

It took her a while to notice.

The first week or so, Cam could pretend everyone was on holiday. Or working in their offices just out of sight. That they didn’t have any cases to be working on.

But that was only the first week (fifty-one more to go).

Cam thought that Dr. Brennan would be glad that even after she was gone, the little voice inside Cam’s head that sounds just like her says that the (temporary) loss of three employees shouldn’t make the Jeffersonian feel empty (four if you count Booth). It just wasn’t rational.

But it did.

The Jeffersonian felt empty.

Or maybe it was just Cam’s corner that felt empty.

It was fine though.

Everything was fine.

Sure, the Medico-Legal lab was completely under-staffed, and she had a handful of forensic anthropology graduate students with whom she had no idea what to do, and despite Dr. Brennan’s promise she hadn’t been able to find her replacement, nor did she expect to find replacements for Dr. Hodgins or Angela, but it was fine.

Everything was fine.

Cam didn’t want to deal with a string of replacements and grad students she couldn’t properly supervise, and since Clark had the qualifications (if not the same expertise as Dr. Brennan), it just made sense to hire him on part time to deal with the museum duties.

All that left was to assign the various grad students to temporary advisors who could actually help them with their dissertations, and informing the FBI that their consulting would have to be put on hold for the next year.

So it was fine.

So what if that left Cam with only her administrative duties. For a year. So what if she was going to out of her mind with boredom.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Cam even considered taking a sabbatical herself, but she figured someone had to hold down the fort. Even if the fort was a lonely place.

When all that was said and done, Cam squared her shoulders and prepared herself to face the year she was left behind.

-

Week two (fifty to go), Cam figured she should pay Sweets a visit. After all, he was left behind just as much as Cam. More, probably, at least Cam hadn’t been _engaged_ to anyone.

In his office, Sweets smiled sadly across at her. Cam took a moment to take her surroundings in. She’d been in Sweets’ office before, of course. But it was always when Cam had a problem she needed solved. Sweets was the one they always went to when they needed help, or needed something explained. She had never bothered to check with him before on his problems.

The office was sparse, like all other FBI offices. But unlike Booth’s, or the other agents Cam knew, there weren’t many personal effects or touches around Sweets’ office. There wasn’t anything to indicate it was really _his_. Cam figured there was some kind of psychology in that, but she wasn’t really sure what. She could ask Sweets, but who was to say he’d even tell her?

“I’m sorry about Daisy,” she said eventually.

Sweets nodded, his legs crossed, hands neatly folded in his lap. “Me too,” he said, and Cam wondered why she was there. What she really expected to get out of this visit.

They weren’t friends (and whose fault was that, Cam wondered). They were co-workers, and they weren’t even working together anymore.

“It’s hard being the one left behind,” he told her. Cam knew he wasn’t only talking about himself.

“Have you heard from her?” she asked.

Sweets shook his head, and looked down. Cam was struck in that moment by how young he really was, all baby-faced and curly hair. “Nah,” he said. “I don’t really expect to. Daisy,” he paused on her name and shook his head. “Daisy gets really caught up in her work. She’s like Dr. Brennan in that way.” He sounded rational and calm, but she thought maybe underneath that she caught a glimpse of what he was really feeling.

“It’s hard being the one left behind,” she echoed.

They sat in silence.

Finally, Sweets looked up at her. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

Cam nodded and chuckled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really glad not to be on that dig.”

Sweets laughed.

“So you haven’t heard from anyone.” It wasn’t a question. For what felt like the thousandth time Cam wondered how this boy, who was closer to Michelle’s age than to hers, could be so insightful.

“No,” she said. “I mean yes. Angela emailed me to say that she and Dr. Hodgins arrived safely, but that was about it.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said, and paused. “Maybe a little hurt, but not really surprised.”

That was exactly it. Cam stared across at him. The two of them. They were the outsiders. The ones who came later. It made sense that they would be the ones left behind, even if it did hurt. “So what do we do?” she asked. Sweets looked at her in that way of his. The look that said, _what are you really trying to ask me?_ “What do I do?” she amended.

“They’re not waiting for us to live their lives,” he said. “I suggest we do the same.”

Easier said than done, it turned out.

That was how they ended up at the founding fathers. Cam ordered a whisky. Sweets looked intimidated and she couldn’t help but smile and take pity on him. “He’ll have a rum and coke,” she said. He smiled and ducked his head.

The waiter arrived with their drinks. Cam clinked their glasses together. “You’ll work your way up to the big stuff,” she said.

So they did.

-

For several minutes before she even opened her eyes Cam knew she was awake. The pounding in her head that clued her into this fact.

One of these days, Cam figured, she was going to remember that she wasn’t twenty anymore, and that a night of drinking wasn’t going to do her any favours. Especially when she was drinking with a twenty year old. _Especially_ on a week night.

Everything hurt.

By the time she staggered out of bed, she was already running twenty minutes late, and she couldn’t even hurry, because the movement required in hurrying _hurt_. That was new.

Michelle was waiting outside her bedroom door, forcing Cam to stop abruptly. “There you are!” she said. “I was just coming to wake—” she cut off. “What happened to you?”

Cam pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nothing. Nothing happened to me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Michelle said. “Are you sick?”

Cam shook her head and made her way to the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Michelle said. “You’re hungover. You are, aren’t you?”

“Michelle, I can’t talk about this right now, because yes, I am hungover,” Michelle grinned. “But don’t think we’re not going to talk about how you know what a hangover looks like later. Because we are. When I am not.”

Michelle laughed, and Cam thought she probably deserved that. She groaned, clutching the kitchen counter, and hoped the wave of nausea would pass quickly.

By the time she got to the Jeffersonian, the two cups of coffee and four ibuprofen she had taken were doing nothing to quell her headache. The mountain of paperwork that greeted her certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“What,” she said abruptly into the ringing phone that was only aggravating her.

“This is all your fault,” Sweets’ voice greeted her. He sounded just as bad as she felt.

She hung up on him.

-

from **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
to **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
date June 2, 2010 12:45:09  
subject **Just a reminder...**

> This is all your fault.

from **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
to **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
date June 2, 2010 13:30:37  
subject **Re: Just a reminder...**

> Please explain to me, Mr. They’re-Not-Waiting-to-Live-Their-Lives-and-Neither-Should-We, how exactly this is _my_ fault.

from **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
to **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
date June 2, 2010 13:51:12  
subject **Re: Just a reminder...**

> I seem to recall a certain someone saying we’d work our way up to the hard liquor. I’m quite sure that certain someone wasn’t me.

from **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
to **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
date June 2, 2010 14:16:58  
subject **Re: Just a reminder...**

>   
> _You_ were the one who wanted to go to the Founding Fathers.

from **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
to **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
date June 2, 2010 14:27:47  
subject **Re: Just a reminder...**

> Dude, I totally was not!

from **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
to **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
date June 2, 2010 14:29:03  
subject **Re: Just a reminder...**

> I just realised I called you dude in my last email. That may have been uncalled for, but I stand by the sentiment and emphasis behind it.

from **Camille Saroyan** <c.saroyan@thejeffersonian.edu>  
to **Lance Sweets** <sweetsl@fbi.gov>  
date June 2, 2010 14:57:22  
subject **Re: Just a reminder...**

> I deny any and all accusations.

-

After that it made sense for them to get lunch later in the week, which resulted in Cam stopping by Sweets’ office because he left his cell phone behind, which resulted in a two hour conversation, which resulted in Sweets dropping by the Jeffersonian to lend Cam a book, which resulted in another round of drinks at the Founding Fathers (this time, without the hangover).

Somehow, in just six weeks (forty-six more to go), and without Cam’s knowledge, she seemed to have become friends with Sweets.

Part of her thought it should be weird. He was so much younger than her, after all. It was easy, sometimes, for her to forget just how young he was. Sweets was just so _smart_. But it was more than that. Cam dealt with intelligent people on a daily basis. She often dealt with people who were too smart for their own good. With Sweets, it wasn’t just that he was intelligent, he was. But he knew how things worked. He knew how _people_ worked, and he understood why they did the things that they did. It was refreshing and terrifying.

Then he would say something like, _Dude, I know_ , or _Ohmygod, that is totally cool_ , and Cam would feel _old_. Of course, this was generally paired with some kind of genius psychological insight, which generally made Cam feel better about herself.

-

“Michelle called me mom.” Cam swivelled around on her chair, the telephone cord wrapping around her shoulders. She hadn’t been paying attention to the work she was supposed to be focused on, for at least the last thirty minutes, so when Sweets called (what was now a near daily occurrence), it was a welcome break.

Since most of her employees were spread around the world and the rest were graduate students she was only supervising in a secondary capacity, most the work Cam did for the Jeffersonian was far removed from her area of interest. It made paying attention to filing and reports particularly difficult.

“Really?” Sweets asked. Cam heard shuffling on his end of the line. She knew from the conversations they’d had this week that Sweets wasn’t working on anything riveting either.

“Not to my face,” she clarified. “I overheard her talking to one of her friends on the phone, and she said she’d have to ask ‘my mom.’” Cam smiled. It had taken literally every ounce of strength in Cam’s body not to rush into Michelle’s room right then and there and give the girl a hug. She settled for doing a bit of a dance in the hallway, and slipping Michelle a twenty for lunch that morning.

“How does that make you feel?” he asked.

She smiled. “Happy, of course.”

“But?” Sweets asked.

Cam silently cursed. She could picture perfectly the look on his face right now. The look that said, you’re-not-telling-me-everything-and -you-really-should-be look. Cam hated that look. She really hated that he was so good at what he did sometimes. “It made me feel,” she trailed off. “Sad.”

“Sad?”

“I miss the little girl I never got to raise,” Cam said. Now it was her turn to shuffle papers purposelessly on her desk, trying to collect her thoughts. “I know that’s awful, and I _love_ Michelle, but I just can’t help thinking that had I stuck around I really would have been her mom.”

“That’s not horrible,” Sweets told her. “You did what was best for you.

“It is! It is horrible. Being a mom is supposed to be about doing what’s best for the child.”

“Maybe it is,” Sweets conceded. “But do you want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Parents do horrible things to their children all the time. And some even do things more horrible than being selfish and wishing for a past they can’t have.”

Cam was silent.

“How are you simultaneously five years old and an old man?”

Sweets chuckled. “We’re talking about you,” he said.

“Whatever, old man.”

Cam shook her head as she hung up the phone. Somehow, without her really noticing it, three months had gone by.

She wasn’t even counting down anymore.

-

Eventually Angela did call, and Booth wrote to Sweets. Fifteen years ago—hell, three years ago—this would have upset Cam. She’s learned a lot about herself since then. She’s learned a lot about Booth, and their relationship.

She understood how hard it was for Booth to be over there, doing what he loves, doing his duty, but at the same time being separated from everyone and everything else that was important to him. She knew how hard that was for him. Sweets needed Booth more, anyway.

And still, no one heard from Brennan.

Cam watched Angela’s smiling face over the video feed as she talked about her life in Paris, all the art she was working on, the tours around France, Italy, and Germany she and Jack were going on. “It’s amazing, Cam,” she gushed. “I can’t even describe what it’s like to be here.”

Cam smiled, and tried not to take offense that all her people had to get away from her to find themselves.

-

“I miss murders.” Cam sighed and stared down at her completely unappetizing turkey sandwich. She and Sweets had met at the diner for lunch.

“That’s terrible,” he told her. “You’re a terrible person.”

“I know,” she moaned. “I’m going to hell.”

“Besides,” he said popping a fry into his mouth and picking up his burger, “It’s not as if murders have stopped happening.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re still consulting on cases.”

He just stared at her.

“I know,” she said and buried her head in her hands. “It’s terrible. I’m terrible. I _feel_ terrible. I’m just _so bored_.”

“Dr. Camille Saroyan: bored in a world without murders.” He paused as if considering this. “You’re right, you are going to hell. Get a hobby or something; it’ll save your eternal soul.”

“I know, I know,” she said picking aimlessly at her sandwich. Sweets continued to eat. “I’m just tired of these mindless admin tasks I have to do. You know what I did today?”

He looked up at her expectantly.

“Reviewed grant proposals.”

“And?”

“And that was it!” She threw up her hands, and then collapsed back into her chair with a huff. “No one cares about grant proposals. Not even the people writing them, so long as they get accepted. I’m a doctor. I should be doing something important.”

“I’m a doctor too. So are ninety-five percent of the people you work with.”

“But I’m a _real_ doctor.” Cam immediately clamped her hands over her mouth.

“Dude,” Sweets said.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that! I promised myself I would never be one of those people.” She sighed again. “You see what this job is doing to me? I’m Dr. Brennan.”

“You’re not Dr. Brennan,” he assured her. “You’re just frustrated. It’s understandable.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I know you’re a real doctor, and you’re great at what you do.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You know, with Dr. Brennan gone, it’s been a while since someone has insulted my life’s work. It’s kind of refreshing.”

Cam smacked him. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Get a hobby,” he repeated. “Read a book. You’ll be dealing with murder victims again before long.”

“I know,” she said. “And then I’ll be sorry.”

-

After six months had passed without a word, Cam figured Dr. Brennan just wasn’t going to call. She and Sweets had lots of long conversations about how it wasn’t in Dr. Brennan’s nature to forge relationships with people, and to expect her to maintain those bonds over long distances was unreasonable, while pretending not to be offended.

It was hard being the one left behind. But Cam chose to hold down the fort, and that was what she was going to do.

“Dr. Saroyan?”

The voice startled Cam out of her reverie. She was supposed to be approving grants and study projects. The kind of exciting stuff Cam had been working on the past six months.

“Dr. Saroyan?” Cam looked up to see Wendell standing hesitantly in the doorway.

“Hi Wendell,” she said. “How are you?”

He smiled and nodded. “Good,” he said. “I miss going on cases, but I’m learning a lot from Dr. Wong.”

Cam smiled. She had hoped Dr. Wong would be a good match for Wendell. The woman was an anthropological genius. No Dr. Brennan, but then no one was.

“I’m glad,” she said.

He nodded again. “There’s a call for you in the conference centre.”

“Okay, thank you, Wendell.” She paused and turned back at him just outside her door. “And you’re definitely not the only one who’s missed working on cases. I’m sure we’ll be back at it before long.”

He grinned.

Cam glanced over at the nearly abandoned medico-legal lab. It was constantly empty these days, besides the odd tech coming to use their equipment. Cam wondered for what felt like the thousandth time whether she had made the right decision choose not to fill any of her missing employees’ positions. It seemed such a waste to have all those resources sitting there. Useless.

“Dr. Brennan!” Cam was shocked to see Brennan’s face being transmitted to the conference centre after so long without speaking. Brennan was tanned and slightly dirty, and while she didn’t look exactly pleased, there was a certain air of happiness to her that Cam couldn’t deny had been missing the last year or so she’d been at the Jeffersonian. “I’m so happy to see you,” Cam said.

“Yes,” Dr. Brennan agreed. “I suspected you would be. I had no particular inclination to contact you, but Booth informed me I was remiss in not phoning.”

“Ah,” Cam said. Some things never changed. “You’re having a good time, then?”

Brennan smiled, and Cam saw her whole face light up. “It’s discoveries like this that are the reason I first became an anthropologist,” Brennan said. “I can’t describe to you the experience here.”

“I’m glad,” Cam said.

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Cam wondered if Brennan experienced awkward moments like the rest of humanity.

“Booth told me to tell you I look forward to returning,” Brennan eventually said. She looked like the statement pained her.

“Is that so?” Cam asked, amused.

“No,” Brennan deadpanned. “I’m anxious to stay here as long as possible. Though Booth tried to explain to me that it was an acceptable lie if it made the other person feel better.”

Cam smiled. She missed this woman. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, Dr. Brennan.”

“I am,” Brennan hesitated. “I find myself missing you and our other friends,” she finally said. “Even if I’m not ready to return.”

Cam struggled back tears. “Thank you, Dr. Brennan. I think that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Brennan smiled.

“I miss you too,” Cam said. “But I won’t detain you any longer.”

Brennan looked relieved. “Thank you Dr. Saroyan.”

The screen turned to static. Cam stood there staring for a long time.

-

The last half of the year passed in much the same fashion as the first. Cam was still bored by her job, still struggled with raising a teenager, still struggled with being the one left behind. If someone had asked her little over a year ago if she would converse with Sweets on a daily basis, and _enjoy_ it for its own sake, Cam probably would have thought them crazy. Yet here they were.

“I’m trying to decide something,” Cam said one day in the Jeffersonian cafeteria. Sweets had stopped by on his lunch break.

“What’s that?” he asked, munching on his burger and fries. Cam was really going to have to give the boy real food before he died of a heart attack before the age of thirty.

“Whether or not it’s pathetic for me to have a best friend who’s old enough to say the word dude on a regular basis.”

Sweets stared at her, fry hanging in the air, halfway between his plate and his mouth. “Dude,” he said. “You mean me.”

Cam cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Definitely not pathetic,” he said. The fry finally made its way into his mouth. “Totally awesome.”

“You are not making your case, old man,” she said, but couldn’t help chuckling. She shook her head and turned her attention back to her own lunch. Turkey on rye. Sweets’ lunch looked so much more appealing. She sighed internally.

“Do we need to hug this out?” he asked, half-rising in his chair.

“Definitely not.”

“Oh come on.” He sat back down. “Just a little hug.” He grinned at her, and she had to admit he looked pretty cute.

Cam crossed her arms and glared at him, showing no outward sign of her affection. It worked for them.

“Alright, alright, we won’t hug.” He shook his head. Cam hid her grin behind her sandwich before taking a bite.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow,” she said. “Somebody’s got to give you some real food.” She looked pointedly at his greasy lunch. “Besides, Michelle’s been asking about you ever since the last time.”

It was Sweets’ turn to cock his eyebrow.

“I think she has a crush on you.” This time she smiled outright.

His eyes grew huge. “No way.”

“Way,” Cam said, and laughed. If anything, spending so much time with Sweets at least made talking to her teenage daughter easier. Sweets rolled his eyes. “It’s cute,” she paused. “In a if-you-even-think-about-acting-on-it-I’ll-totally-kill-you, kind of way.”

“Give me a little more credit than that,” he said. “Plus I am totally afraid of you.”

“As it should be,” Cam said, satisfied.

Sweets threw one of his fries at her.

-

Eventually, all of Cam’s people come home, just as she knew they would ( _Dude!_ the voice inside her head no longer sounds like Dr. Brennan, but a very annoying, too-smart-for-his-age psychologist, _that is totally a lie, and you knew it. How many times did you call me complaining that they’d never be back?_ Cam ignores it, as she ignores its real-life counterpart). They smile and hug and talk about their year, telling stories Cam can never be a part of.

It makes her sad until the first time she calls Sweets “old man” in front of Booth. He shoots her a quizzical expression, and Cam realises she has stories they’re not a part of either.

They all lived their lives in that year apart, and maybe Cam was more reluctant than the rest of them, but she did.

And it was awesome.

(That, however, doesn’t mean she wasn’t happy to be working cases on a regular basis again. Because she is.)

  



End file.
